


Idle hands are the devil's workshop

by elizaria



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-06-12
Updated: 2009-06-12
Packaged: 2019-06-21 03:19:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15548460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elizaria/pseuds/elizaria
Summary: [originally posted 2009-06-12]For kink bingo #3; Angel/Spike w Buffy as voyeur (NC-17, voyeurism)Fandom: AngeltS with a Buffy visitWordcount: 1424, unbeta'ed





	Idle hands are the devil's workshop

Okay, seriously. This was not how she'd planned to spend her evening. But hey, if the vampires were drunk off of whatever that demon had sprayed them with and wanted to do some naughty touching? Buffy wasn't going to stand in their way. Nope, no way. The opposite instead. They stumbled up the stairs and the giggling was seriously weirding her out, hearing Angel like that was ... doing things to her. Pantywetting things as she watched them kiss. Kissage wasn't enough words to explain what was going on, snogging fitted better but there was some serious mauling going on. She told herself that she was only sticking around for safety's sake. Angel couldn't get too happy and someone had to watch him, someone that wasn't Spike and drunk on being kissed like the world was depending on their mouths being fused together.  
  
Spike was seriously bendy, which she knew. Really, it wasn't like she was lying to herself these days about how good Spike was in bed. Nope, no lying. But perhaps trying to forget because he wasn't for her. They weren't for each other, not now with the Slayer academy in the buildups and Italy and Dawn and every reason she could think of to not feel the loss of both of them. They were like that chocolate in the cupboard, the one that you saved up and once you'd eaten it only made your body crave more of it.  
  
So, pretty boys naked and tangled on a bed in front of her and oh look, a chair placed in perfect position for her to watch. Supervise. Whatever you called the kind of reconnaissance sort of watching. Because that was what she was doing, and it was only really warm and stifled in the room because it'd been closed up all day in L.A. heat. It had nothing to do with the fact that Spike was whimpering on the bed, stretched out and half naked. Angel's right hand scrunching Spike's shirt up to his nipples and Buffy could see those perfect abs pant underneath Angel's hold. Spike so didn't need to breathe but he always did it during sex, noisy wet breathing that made her curl her toes and kiss him even more breathless. Angel seemed to enjoy doing that same exact thing the way he was holding Spike tight against his chest, but with Spike's neck twisted in an angle to stretch all prettylike up towards Angel's greedy mouth.  
  
God, the sounds they made.  
  
It really was hot in here. Maybe she could just take off her jacket, and kick off her shoes so she could curl up better in the chair. Sitting down again the chair scraped loudly against the floor but they didn't seem to mind or have a care in the world for anything but them. Angel was unsnapping Spike's pants and Buffy could totally understand why noises wouldn't bother them. Spike was undulating his body against Angel's bigger bulk and it was like really good porn. Not that she had watched porn. Only peaked at it, between fingers and cheeks red with embarrassment. Which was strange because all those awesome filthy things she'd done with Spike was far beyond any of the vanilla porn she'd stumbled upon surfing the Internet. But that was them, like a dirty secret she wasn't sure had even happened but in really hot (wet) dreams.  
  
Staring at Angel's hand around Spike's cock, moving from root to glistening top, she was about ready to start humping the damn chair herself. She knew the feel of that silky skin in her hand, the complete abandonment Spike offered up like a plate of please and it was maddening to sit her and watch. Spike made a sound and arched his back, his feet twisting into the sheets as he tried to find leverage and hurry Angel's maddeningly slow pace.  
  
Angel was almost naked. She could see his pants tangled around his feet when the bulked sheets were kicked away by Spike's struggles. Suddenly Spike's twisting hips made more sense and Buffy blushed at imagining Angel riding Spike's ass while his hand steered the pace with his grip on Spike's cock. Heat in her face, her body flushed with want and her panties were soaked enough that they felt like they'd melted away.  
  
She could always blame a whiff of the demony spray too, chucking her pants and hooking her knees over the arms of the chair. Her fingers barely had to touch her clit before she was coming, spasming against her hand and her teeth biting into her lip to not make too much noise.  
  
The guttural sound of both of them made her look up, stare into yellowed eyes and arch her back into her other hand which was pinching a bared nipple. 80's fashion cut on shirts seriously helped when you wanted easy access, the way it almost fell off her shoulders and bared the half side of her torso. Squirming in the chair she was aching for them to fill her up, to have them both and be as greedy as she wanted. Instead she spread her legs a little wider at Spike's twist of tongue and look in his eyes, the way Angel positioned Spike and pushed inside him with his eyes locked on her face. Spike's greedy choked sounds made her come a second time, her hand drenched and slippery and not enough.  
  
So when Angel pushed Spike hard, making him fall face first into the twisted sheets and his ass in the air Buffy squirmed lower on the chair. Her ass open and on the rim of the chair, her knees clutching tight to the wooden chair arms and her pussy clenched around her fingers. She could almost feel the sounds they made, the heavy slaps of body against body, Spike's low noises as he bit his fist to shut himself up and Angel's heavy grunts as he pounded into Spike's ass.  
  
She watched them and Angel watched her, Spike too busy getting his brains fucked out to have a chance to look up. The leer on Angel's face as her slippery hand went lower, tracing the muscled opening to her ass, biting her lip not to whimper as two fingers slide in as easy as nothing. Her other hand working her clit again and finally there's something to push against, to not feel so goddamn empty while watching them (her) boys fucking. Scissoring her fingers and rubbing her clit, she's almost bouncing in the chair to have more, to feed the greedy clutch of her body and come enough to be satisfied. Angel's clutching Spike closer, those beautiful big hands stretched across the span of Spike's ribcage. Moving up to Spike's shoulder and pulling him up, back onto Angel's body and his lap. Spike's almost gone with pleasure, his head lolling back onto Angel's shoulder and his mouth seeking Angel's throat to nuzzle (hide) as he holds onto Angel's forearms with a bruising grip. His lean pale thighs tensing with effort as he tries to fuck himself onto Angel, but she can see that Angel's holding him tight, still.  
  
She's fucking herself harder now, her other hand wet and rubbing herself almost raw and it's not enough. She moans loudly as Angel pulls Spike by his hair and steers his face towards her. To look at her. To see what she's doing to herself.  
  
His eyes loosing some of the glazed look and the sounds he makes as he finally notices her in his own haze of pleasure. The wet tongue tracing his lips, the movements of his hips and bucking into Angel's fist. They're all here, connected by sound and scent and  _seeing_  each other for what they are in the simplest way. Human and monster alike. When Angel bites deep into Spike's throat and he comes with a keening sound, Buffy's already gone. Convulsing around her fingers at the look in Angel's eyes as his teeth broke Spike's skin and she knew what that felt like. Desperately knew the pleasure like a crashing wave, ripping your footing from underneath you and you got no chance but follow and drown in it.  
  
Her legs like jelly and she can hear them settle through a haze, like the one rising above the asphalt on a too hot summer day. So when arms grab her and pulls her into the shower, she lets them. Surrounded by strength and knowing they'll pick her up if she'd stumble and fall.


End file.
